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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832899">All the Minister's Men</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iforgottocall/pseuds/Iforgottocall'>Iforgottocall</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, BAMF Hermione Granger, Battousai - Freeform, Black Hermione Granger, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Facebook: Harmony &amp; Co., Harmony - Freeform, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry is a shadow assassin, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hermione Granger-centric, Inspired by Mulan (1998), M/M, Mulan (1998) References, Noonewalksawayfromwar, Past Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Protective Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Slow Burn, War, ruroni kenshin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:28:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iforgottocall/pseuds/Iforgottocall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Remus, Hermione’s sickly father, is drafted into the new blood war. Hermione does what she must to protect him and goes in his place: as Herman Lupin. She and shadow assassin, Harry Potter, will stop this rising evil together through precise slashes or profound love, whichever gets the job done faster. Mulan inspired. Battousai inspired.</p><p>Rating and tags may change as story evolves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I did not have it in myself to go with grace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyKay/gifts">CurlyKay</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/gifts">anne_ammons</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kifiyathewriter/gifts">kifiyathewriter</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In the immortal words of Joshua Weissman, "Let's do this. Shall we?"</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A HUGE THANK YOU to: CurlyKay for untangling my ramblings and helping shape my ideas for the second time..super awesome Alpha!; Anne-Ammons and kifiyathewriter for being rockstar Alphas, Betas and literally everything in between. I nearly scrapped this story and their kindness &amp; expertise set me straight.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Chapter 1: I Didn’t Have it in Myself to Go with Grace</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Their cramped cabin was several meters away from the town’s edge. Remus had built it as Tipsy nursed little Hermione (as there was no mother around to do it) under a thicket of apple tree leaves. To hear Tipsy tell it, Remus had worked into the wee hours of the morning (well past the witching hour) with his sweat and blood dripping onto the wood planks. Tipsy said his essence seeped into the very foundation of the house: nature’s runic protection for his new little family. </p><p> </p><p>Tipsy, the ever-disappointed mother, extolled Hermione with these sorts of silly tales that Hermione knew were only more ways to distinguish a lacking Hermione from her towering, wolf-born father. Usually, Remus, with his superb hearing, would teeter into the room whispering that he was certainly not that interesting or nearly as heroic as his loyal house elf painted him to be. Remus would bop Tipsy’s nose playfully and send her on some asinine chore so he could unravel the silly lies she’d spun. He’d then bundle Hermione up in his arms that always smelled of tobacco and old books and tell her the tales of a curly-haired orphan.</p><p> </p><p>Her favorite tale was their own story; how a little girl with no mother came to be the daughter of a werewolf. To his credit, Remus never lied about how she came to be in his care. His voice was soft spoken and measured as if he counted each word carefully to ensure he had enough of them to give some away and, in retaliation, Hermione never hoarded her thoughts; rather, she tossed them out into the world like weeds. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione was never told that she was loved despite all the endearing words he’d sprinkled into her head; she knew it was a hard line that he could not cross. How could the man that killed her parents ever lay claim to such precious sentiments?</p><p> </p><p> Without acknowledged love, Hermione instead fostered a sense of intense duty and obligation to Remus that she hoped he understood. She’d excelled in the only education offered to a girl and participated in “Hearth &amp; Home” classes.   Endeavoring to make herself (the living reminder of his worst day) more palatable to her father, Hermione bullied her way into working with Luna’s governess which had the happy consequence of forging a friendship between the two girls. Hermione never forgave the minister; he’d banned all female and muggleborn students from Hogwarts attendance. The students were perfectly able to send their children to another magical school or enroll with a private tutor, but protecting the “most vulnerable” children during these uncertain times was paramount. How anyone without resources at their disposal could pass their NEWTS was anybody’s guess. Remus and Hermione agreed it was political hogwash, but what could be done?</p><p> </p><p>Her favorite place was the frozen lake; it was their place. He was different, more solid there; most times he was insubstantial- set to fly away. He’d seemed old even then unlike the other fathers in town, but the lake reflected light loving on his face revealing his true youth- a man of only 25. His wool cardigan had been buttoned carefully with his tan oxford pressed perfectly underneath. His wooden pipe puffed thoughtfully between his lips with sandy, thin hair barely shielding his exposed scalp from the sun. </p><p> </p><p>Remus told her, when she was very small, that the lake was a sacred, silent place. He walked her down to the water at four when the sun was highest and the air was warm. Hermione let go of his hand running towards the shimmering, completely solid lake. She threw her little body on the lake’s edge looking into the mirrored pool below her. She’d seen her own small face with too big eyes and soft puffy hair waving at her. Then, Remus’s placid, eternally melancholy face joined hers in the reflection. Hermione could see the unthinking adoration sneaking between their two eyes. She watched, fixated, as his mirror self reached out and patted her head. </p><p> </p><p>And then, he told her about the lake’s decision to remain solid after a particularly harsh winter when he was a boy. He’d told her that the lake used to whisper kind words and sweet murmurs into his ear when his tears would drip down his face and into her vast pools. Remus  looked away then and spoke more to himself than to her. “She’d held my tears to herself for years until one day I think she just couldn’t hold them anymore. She froze over after that. She hasn’t spoken to me in years. Sadness breaks, Hermione. It breaks everything it touches.”</p><p> </p><p>Remus hadn’t realized it until Hermione’s little hand had grasped his thumb that he’d run away with his memories. He blinked, as if waking, to find them both standing there. He looked deep into Hermione’s eyes and she into his. She hadn’t understood him completely that day, but she’d seen something broken, like one of her porcelain dolls, and she’d attempted to hold it- him together. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh my little darling. I’m terribly sorry for being an old grump,” His happy, strained voice returned as he tapped her button nose. Before she could answer, he’d thrown her up into the air and when she’d returned to his arms, there were white ice skates on her feet. “Here now! I promised to take you skating. Come along, love.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Hermione shook her head as Remus’s voice echoed in her memories. She’d been holding her mug while staring out at the lake, reliving simpler times. She turned at the sound of her father’s boots pounding on the floorboards. As she took him in, Hermione grinned softly. He gaped at her like a fish.</p><p> </p><p>“What on earth are you doing up?” Remus attempted to look stern only to lose his composure, chuckling softly.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like this,” Hermione whined softly, hoping to plead with him once more. Remus sighed heavily and placed his leather briefcase softly on the floor. His jaw was firm but not hard and she knew he was in “Professor Mode” again, which she normally loved but at the moment  she was hard pressed to muster her typical level of enthusiasm.</p><p> </p><p>“When the minister summons me to a private meeting, I must obey.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not a king! You don’t have to do anything.” Remus stepped towards her and she unfurled her arms from about her body. Hermione’s insides burned - as though she’d eaten nothing but chocolate frogs for days- and tears collected in her eyes. With his enhanced hearing and refined nose, Hermione knew he could sense her tears and her fears. She found her head crushed into his belly as he cradled her to him.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s going to ask you to do something horrid. You always come back wrong. You’re not yourself.” Hermione cried as she clutched at his sides.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too smart by half, Hermione,” she heard him say quietly before a teasing lilt colored his voice, “Do you trust me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Father!” Exasperated, little Hermione threw her hands up. Before she could get worked up, Remus hoisted her into his arms and sat them both on their too stiff couch that no one ever bothered fixing. His hand began stroking her hair as he gently rocked her. He chuckled softly at her irritation. He loved to annoy his tightly wound child; soothing her anxiety helped to ease his own self deprecating nature.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m only teasing, but you must trust me and calm yourself. I’ve called Tipsy to stay with you. You know how she loves her knitting business so she’ll be a bit sore. Make sure to keep her company, hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need Tipsy.” said Hermione.</p><p> </p><p>“Humor me? And that reminds me; under no circumstances are you to see Ronald or Harry without my presence. Molly’s still cross about what you did to her begonias.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s big eyes were round with worry and her tiny hands still gripped the lapels of his vest, but she straightened her spine and looked directly into his eyes.“I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay then.” He playfully ruffled her hair  before releasing her and standing to collect his effects.  With a quiet call, Tipsy appeared in the room with her school marm spectacles dangling from the silver neck chain around her neck. She did indeed look cross. </p><p> </p><p>“Miss Hermione, I am saying this in front of Master Remus... Absolutely no funny business with the Weasley boy or Mister Harry Potter. Missus Molly still hasn’t forgiven me for the last time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly! I was just teaching Ronald to transfigure inorganic matter! Someone has to if he’s ever to graduate Hogwarts. Just because I’m not there to make sure he does his work, doesn’t give him any excuse to lay about. Especially with his OWLS only a few years away!” Remus withheld his chuckle; Hermione had never understood that just because she was a child prodigy, didn’t mean other people were especially a normal 13 year old boy.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Funny. Business.” Tipsy put her hands on her tiny hips while staring up at her brilliant charge with  impossibly round, fiery eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I leave it to your capable hands, Tipsy.” Remus inclined his head seriously at the elf who preened under his compliments before surreptitiously sending an amused look at his eight year old. Hermione smiled back- quieting her anxiety. He turned from the tiny domestic scene, his heart aching, and Disapparated silently.</p><p> </p><p>-------</p><p> </p><p>Remus’s smile fell as he landed at the apparition point. The air here felt tighter, as if balancing on a thin rail that was wont to collapse. He shivered at the thought and his ever-present guilt torched him-the flames causing his blood to boil. He was promptly met by his old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The elder wizard nodded solemnly; his soggy robes plastered to his tall, thin frame.</p><p> </p><p>They both turned to face Malfoy Manor with grim expressions. They already knew what the minister wanted to speak with them about but the dismal day and sheet rain added additional levity to the proceedings. Remus squared his shoulders and followed Dumbledore down the long drive to the Malfoys’ front door. When the two of them reached the door, they turned to one another with twin nods of understanding. </p><p> </p><p>“Remus, I will not think any less of you if you decide to exit after this meeting,” Dumbledore said quietly, “I am aware that your ward is your primary concern.”</p><p> </p><p>“I appreciate that, Headmaster. But, I confess that I have my own pride to think of in this matter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, pride. Yes, pride is beautiful for one's own soul to be sure. It is not, however, always conducive to our familial responsibilities. When the time comes, you may need to lay your pride aside for your child’s sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Forgive me, Headmaster, but I will speak plainly. If I do not stand for what is right, how can I look at Hermione and tell her to stand with integrity? If I refuse to fight the monsters under her bed, where will she be free?”</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore looked at Remus and a string of words were left unsaid between them before Dumbledore sighed and turned to knock on the heavy oak door separating them from destiny. Just as the door pulled inward to reveal a grimy faced house elf, Dumbledore spoke again, “Our children may never know the sacrifices we make in their honor.”</p><p> </p><p>Remus smiled truly then, a beatific light on a gray day. “I can only hope. I’d rather her resent me than know the demons I face in the dark… <em> That </em>is what it means to be a father.”</p><p> </p><p> “Hermione is blessed. I only wish Harry could have had the same. He lost his father a long time ago and I have never had an affinity for such a role.” Remus frowned at this but felt there was nothing to say.</p><p> </p><p>With that ominous statement whispered between them, the two men entered the enchanting estate.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------------------</p><p>
  <em> Several Hours Later </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Remus stumbled out of Malfoy Manor’s heavy doors, sweating and smelling like cleansing charms he did not cast. “What...why can’t I remember? Where are my friends?” Remus searched around him, hoping someone was listening to his fevered cries. He saw no one, and that was all wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“James...Lily... Sirius!” He bellowed in abject agony- <em> a feeling that felt misplaced, he’d just been with them hadn’t he? Why did he feel so heartbroken </em>, with trembling limbs that would not respond to him?</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore’s wizened hand reached out to steady Remus’s shoulder, keeping him from falling. </p><p>Remus’s eyes frantically darted about as he attempted to calm down enough to focus on the man in front of him. He was surprised at what he saw.</p><p> </p><p>After the meeting, Dumbledore’s imperturbable facade had been chewed through revealing the real person underneath. This allowed Remus to see the slow burning cauldron that was Albus, the true man. Albus (it was inconceivable to refer to this man as Headmaster...this wholly different  person glued together by rage) looked through Remus as though the werewolf were nothing more than a thin piece of gauze obscuring Albus from eternity before barking, “You have your orders. Go home to your child, Remus.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you, Albus? What will you do?”</p><p> </p><p>“What I must.” Remus was furious. “You talked with Malfoy for a long time. What did he say? I know when I'm being used. What have you done to James...Sirius?”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, changing back into the guileless headmaster, “Remus. You have your orders.”</p><p> </p><p>“What will be done with Harry?” Remus’s body had only recently come back under his control, and he endeavored to stare the other man down. Dumbledore was not moved. </p><p> </p><p>“My dear boy, I am sorry.” said the older man before swishing a gnarled and knotted wand, one that was definitely not his own, into Remus’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Obliviate. Remus, remember what I am about to tell you…”</p><p> </p><p>Remus nodded. It was of course a logical conclusion even if he didn’t remember ever saying it himself. </p><p> </p><p>“After you arrive home, you will do this…” </p><p> </p><p>Remus shrugged, for some reason that order seemed perfectly acceptable; it's a wonder he didn’t think of it himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Go. I’ll send those books we discussed over another time.” The headmaster said with a smile. Remus bid him a good day as he walked back to the apparition point outside the Manor. Within a few moments, the werewolf was gone. </p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore smiled faintly as his former student left, his expression sourly frozen upon his face. Minister Malfoy walked to the headmaster’s side with a cold greeting. The two men stood in the dust of Remus’s apparition for a few fleeting moments.</p><p> </p><p>“It was necessary.” the younger man finally spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“You are the minister. You know best, Lucius.”</p><p> </p><p>The younger man had his hands knotted together behind his back. His hair was a straight fountain of blond flowing down to his shoulders. His eyes looked down at the older man but his strong jaw remained firmly set- not deeming to lower itself for the other man’s benefit. Lucius had been pacing as he spoke but he stopped at his old professor’s words, “Quite right, Albus. I do know best.”</p><p> </p><p>As Remus Apparated through space, tumbling from his minister’s home to his own on the other side of the country, a thought that sounded too sure of itself, too calculating entered his head, <em> “Harry was a child best forgotten. Harry was not an appropriate companion for his daughter. He was unsafe. Harry was best left to Dumbledore’s care...Harry was not to be thought of… </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Soon that voice-the one that sounded like draping robes sliding about worn stone footpaths, that voice that boomed hello to fresh-faced students both new and old--soon that voice looping in his mind slowed down, sped up, lowered in pitch like a person desperately trying to find a clear radio station slowly began tuning itself until it started sounded very much like Remus’s own.</p><p> </p><p>Yes. Why didn’t Remus see before? James was dead and nothing could be done. Remus’s allegiance was complete and as for Harry... Harry was important but he would only hurt Hermione. By the time his feet landed on his doorstep, Remus was sure about what had to be done.</p><p> </p><p>Remus had to ensure that Hermione was provided for, educated and emotionally fostered. Her life had begun in blood and gnashing teeth. She would run toward violence like an old friend and yet, he’d hoped that he could spare her losing any more innocence. So, it was with a heavy heart that he separated her from Harry. He loved the boy as his own, truly. In his heart sat little Harry’s chubby face; but, Hermione was his own child, and he found himself having to make difficult choices. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione had been bequeathed to him in a moment between life and death. Her mother, as she lay dying, scratched Remus’s left cheek, leaving a scar cursed not with magical words but with the demand of a dying mother. He’d found that to be the deepest curse of all. As she twitched out her last breath and he’d inhaled the last of her soul into his body, a deal was made that only the dying and death makers could understand; her baby was now his gift and his ruin.</p><p> </p><p>So, it was with a heavy, weary soul that he’d cut the relationship between Hermione and Harry. Dumbledore was playing the long game with Harry... Hermione would not be used as a pawn. He’d make sure of it. <em> Harry was a child best forgotten. He was not an appropriate companion for his child…. </em></p><p> </p><p>-------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>I'd love to know your thoughts! Please be gentle as this is my first Harmony story and I'm nervous! </p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. My Angel Luna</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Ten Years Later</b>
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  <span>It could not be overstated how important today was to Hermione Granger. She arose before morning light as she did every morning. This morning, Hermione’s normally frizzy hair had been tightly plaited into a braided crown. Tipsy had gotten ahold of Hermione right as the young woman had emerged from her bath. While she gave Tipsy an evil glare, Hermione had been quietly relieved. Her fingers had twitched terribly as she’d rinsed her thick hair with rose water in hopes of taming it into submission. She’d had no such luck and had left the tub with a tangled mess dripping down her back. Tipsy had pulled out her secret hair pomade that soothed Hermione’s overworked strands into something tight and presentable, if not even a bit flattering. </span>
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  <span>Now, as Hermione stood staring at her open wardrobe, she was thankful she had one less thing to worry over. </span>
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  <span>Hermione pulled her hand up to fiddle with her too tight braid only to have her hand zapped for the effort. Blasted Tipsy had spelled Hermione’s hair to zap anyone who tried to touch the coiffed style. Say what you will about her father’s house elf; Tipsy was a genius in her own right. Hermione scowled as she felt Tipsy put her foot on Hermione’s back to tie the corset as tight as possible. This was the single most humiliating day in Hermione’s life, and it would not be endured.</span>
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  <span>“Leave me alone!” she shrieked shrilly at the wizened elf behind her. Hermione wiggled out of Tipsy’s iron grasp and ran out of the room. She could hear the little woman elf curse behind her. Hermione took the steps two at a time until she reached the main room. She ignored her father, whose head was stuck in the newspaper as he sat with a morning coffee as she slipped on her boots intending to flee.</span>
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  <span>“Master Remus!” Tipsy bellowed, “It is impossible. She is impossible!”</span>
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  <span>“Hermione.” Remus said quietly as her hand turned the knob. Hermione did not turn but did stand with her chest heaving and silent tears trailing over her brown skin. “Don’t forget your umbrella and galoshes. I believe it's going to rain.”</span>
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  <span>Hermione grinned as she heard Tipsy stamp her foot. “Master Remus!” the elf admonished. Hermione did not stay to hear whatever sassy, though well meaning, thing Tipsy was going to say. Hermione was brilliant. She knew this was an unavoidable day. She knew she was passing over into womanhood and it could not be helped. But...she just needed a moment. Just a moment to be a girl again. One last time. So she ran to her frozen lake slipping and falling, with all the grace she’d been afforded in life, on her way there. </span>
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  <span>Quickly, she transfigured her rubber boots into ice skates as the frigid rain trickled onto the frozen expanse of water. Gracefully, Hermione’s feet propelled her body onto the ice. Hermione slowly entwined her limbs as her legs masterfully swayed about the frozen arena, before relaxing her appendages fully as her head piloted her form into the air. As her thin skates touched ground, a deep, forceful breath exploded out of her mouth. She felt lighter as her body completed her thousandth salchow. After her burst of initial energy, Hermione continued to loop about lazily as her mind wandered.</span>
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  <span>There existed a dichotomy inside Hermione’s world that could not be merged or triplicated. Hot and cold, anger and euphoria, social pariah and treasured companion, clumsy flyer and graceful swan, and, finally, life and death were such integral parts to her experience that when faced with true points of gray, Hermione stuttered about like a headless chicken searching for its better self. She did not do anything by halves and simply could not understand those that did. It was probably why, ironically, her first friend in the world was the man who’d murdered her parents. </span>
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  <span>----</span>
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  <span>Remus moved from the breakfast nook to the large bay window as he watched his girl sprint towards Lupin’s Lake. It had been the first place he’d gone when he stole her from her mother’s dying arms. It was morbid and even sick, yet fitting that it was the place Hermione always ran to for solace. He watched her transfigure her shoes into suitable skating attire and he smiled. She was a gifted child. Able to do things wandlessly with no effort that wealthier, purer children could not. </span>
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  <span>He turned away and went back to his newspaper. He clenched his mug as he continued to read the transfigured missive he’d received. His eyes continued scanning the contents before abruptly coming to a halt; the mug he’d been holding now lay in porcelain shards, scattered into a million pieces. Tipsy, who’d been railing with no audience, suddenly stopped and ran to him. The tiny elf began cleaning his cuts and bandaging his bloody hand, erasing all evidence of the incident in a blink of the eye. She looked at him questioningly- less like a servant and more like the sister she’d become- and he showed her the letter.  After reading the missive, she closed her eyes as fat tears crowded her eyelids. </span>
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<p> </p>
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  <span>“You’ll-you’ll take care of her...Ensure that she finds a suitable husband today. Keep her away from those dodgy Bulstrodes.”</span>
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  <span>Tipsy looked aghast, quickly quieting her tears. “Master, you know I would never allow them near her.” Suddenly Tipsy stopped as if discovering something. When she did, her voice took on an accusing, irate quality as her eyes narrowed.“ You intend to keep her uninformed of your correspondence.”</span>
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  <span>“It’s for the best.” He declared before repeating the statement more questioningly.”It is for the best, Tipsy?” At his obvious pain, Tipsy deflated and patted his large hand. She nodded in agreement only to soothe his troubled spirit; she knew Hermione would not be better off, but the girl was strong and would face the news with a stiff upper lip. He exhaled tightly before looking at Tipsy with beseeching eyes, asking a question that didn’t need words.</span>
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  <span>“I will care for the girl.” she assured him with eyes like ice.</span>
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<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She deserves your love, Tipsy.” He rebuffed her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who said she doesn’t have it?” the little elf smirked- a strange sight on her babyish face and round eyes. Remus, despite his melancholy and deep sadness at parting with his only child, grinned back at his mischievous companion who’d never let him down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> As quickly as it had come, his smile sunk back into his face. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione.... You’ve accepted so much, but I think this will be the moment when you finally loathe me,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought mournfully</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tipsy’s hands shook as she covered her face as though to hide from Remus’s quaking despair.  A pungent scent garbled the air between them and they both recognized the impending aroma of death.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” He breathed raggedly as he tried to stand, but the force of his regret slammed him back in the chair. He intended to gather his things before Hermione returned home with a marriage offer. He wanted to give her his happy consent knowing that another man could keep her safe when he could not. And yet, the strength to start the process would not come. He couldn’t make his body follow his commands despite their half hearted nature. He spotted Hermione’s neat little desk stacked high with books, and he swore he felt the room shrink. The only thing he could see was that tiny desk awaiting a child to sit before it  and explore all the knowledge in the world, except how to mend a broken heart. He hoped she’d never find herself in need of that form of guidance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Remus turned away quickly and refocused on his elf. “I must begin preparations, so I will be out for the remainder of the day. Please see that Hermione keeps her matchmaking appointment.” His voice sounded hollow yet strong. He could do this… for her sake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She was expecting it to be you escorting her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I cannot…ehem, excuse me...I cannot allow her to see me like this. </span>
  <span>She’ll know</span>
  <span>.” Tipsy patted his patchy hair while tears fell down both their faces.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning, Luna.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione stopped her twirls just as she’d heard her friend’s lily white voice singing nonsense songs through the patch of forest between their houses. Hermione skated to the edge of the lake to meet her friend before quickly transfiguring her skates back to footwear. Luna skipped from her spot down to Hermione’s space on the ice. She draped her long arms about Hermione’s neck squeezing her tightly. Luna pulled back and held Hermione’s shoulder as the blonde looked directly into her eyes. Seeming to find what she was looking for, Luna smiled tightly before letting Hermione go and pulling something from her pocket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione  flexed her tired toes in her shoes while observed the other girl. Luna wore a light blue dress made of a gauze that wrapped about her body like a river. The material appeared to move and flow like a waterfall as Luna moved about. Her straight hair was braided in two large plaits that fell down her back. </span>
  <span>Hermione's hands clenched into fists as jealousy panged in her chest, her nails dug deeply into her palms</span>
  <span> as she envisioned the other girl having her pick potential husbands. Hermione found herself snarling internally despite her best efforts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I made this for you,” Luna said intruding upon Hermione’s envious thoughts. Hermione looked at the fragile necklace in Luna’s open palm. The delicate chain glimmered, and Hermione recognized it for what it was, Goblin gold. The chain supported a tiny, golden stag that charged blindly about Luna’s hand as if staving off an enemy. The stag would stop as it speared its invisible adversary then stomped its hoof on Luna’s palm before blowing tiny puffs of smoke out of its nostrils as if beckoning a new challenger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luna then moved her other hand causing Hermione to break her eyes away from the enchanting scene to follow the blonde’s movements. Luna had unclasped a similar looking necklace from her person that held a small silver hare on its chain. She dropped her hare charm beside the stag. Hermione was shocked to find the stag charging for the little hare after realizing he was no longer alone on Luna’s palm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop, Luna!” It was too late. The stag speared the little hare with its magnificent antlers. Disturbed, Hermione backed away from her only girlfriend. Luna looked on at the scene dispassionately before spearing Hermione with a sharp look. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep looking.” Luna commanded. Hermione nodded with wild eyes and resumed staring at the violent display before her. The little hare lay prone on the floor- Luna’s palm- as the stag nudged at the hare curiously...sadly. When the hare would not move, the stag pulled its head back and howled silently.  Soon, as though regenerating, the little rabbit popped back up and began bouncing over to Luna’s index finger. The stag stood still as it stared at the other figurine. Luna snatched up her hare necklace and affixed it around her neck. Luna then held her hand out to Hermione in a motion that indicated that Luna wanted Hermione to take the stag necklace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want that horrible little beast!” Hermione exclaimed as she spun on her heel, putting her back to her friend. Hermione felt disturbed and wrong after watching the two figurines.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luna giggled. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a beast; that’s his nature. It doesn’t make him horrible.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He killed your hare!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt he ever understood what it meant to kill something. His previous challengers were hardly visible or tangible. Anyway, he felt right awful about it when he understood death fully.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t change a thing. He’s bad and I don’t want him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Hermione,” Luna giggled again but this time Hermione could feel the taller girl’s breath on her neck indicating that Luna was behind her, “Nothing is that easy.” Suddenly, a weight landed on her neck and Hermione could feel something tapping against her chest. She looked down to see the stag charging savagely at the buttons on her dress. Luna’s fingers lingered on the back of her neck painting imaginary dreams there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione stepped away and turned around, but quickly found her face smooshed to Luna’s neck. Luna crushed Hermione to her while whispering in Hermione’s ear. “It’s tradition for a mother to craft a charmed necklace for her daughter, and all the other girls will have them today. It’s protection magic; it keeps us safe as we dance for husbands. You and I have no mothers; so, I created them for us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione finally hugged Luna back as shameful tears rolled down her caramel cheeks. “I’m sorry I was a prat. Thank you. I’ve been in a foul mood all day. Something feels...wrong.” Luna stroked Hermione’s hair as Hermione pulled her thoughts together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your necklace will protect you. I made sure of it.” Luna released her but grabbed Hermione’s face with both hands. Luna’s magic normally was a soft breeze dissipating softly, but as Hermione looked in Luna’s eyes, she saw something- felt something heavier dropping off her friend’s aura like stones. The air between them rippled angrily as though nature itself wanted to pull them apart, but Luna’s force of will wouldn’t allow it. Hermione gasped as Luna pushed her lips to Hermione’s in a lover’s kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The press of lips slowly eased away leaving a thread-thin silence in its wake. Hermione held a finger to her lips in surprise. In a twin motion, Luna held a finger to her lips in awe before her eyes darkened sadly as if remembering a terrible secret. “I will see you again, though not in the way I’d like. I tried to stop this, but even I am subject to the natural laws.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Luna! What on eart-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luna’s voice swelled with sorrow that seemed to rain out of her little body as she cut Hermione off, “I’ve always been able to keep track of you...known where to find you, but the future is...hazy, like a cloud obscuring the sun. But, even through the clouds, I can see you smiling, and it warms me.”  Luna’s smile returned as she finished her statement as though Hermione’s safety bought Luna a Galleon of comfort. She kissed Hermione again and Hermione felt Luna’s salty tears on her own skin. Before she could say anything, Luna had pulled back to apparate away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the exact spot Luna had previously Apparated away from, Tipsy appeared. Tipsy looked as bewildered as Hermione did as if Tipsy herself wasn’t sure why she was here. “What is it?” Hermione screeched. She’d had enough surprises for one day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I felt a...snag in the atmosphere as though magic itself had stumbled and ripped its shirt sleeve. It was coming from you.” Tipsy whispered. Hermione stared at the place where Luna had been feeling as though she’d lost her soul. Against her heart, the stag stabbed at her clothing vengefully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even after eating breakfast and rewashing her now sweaty body, Hermione could not be calmed. Tipsy had shaken herself out of whatever funk had brought her to Hermione’s side and began fussing about Hermione’s dishevelled state. That bit of normalcy allowed Hermione to snap back to reality and begin refocusing her attention on the events awaiting her today.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tipsy had been uncharacteristically pleasant to Hermione even after having to redo Hermione’s plaits and dressing her in a simple but expensive shift dress that flattered Hermione’s thin figure. Tipsy refrained from any severe scolding and barely reminded Hermione to not be an embarrassment to her father at the social dance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of him, where is my father? He needs to escort me to the dance.” Hermione questioned. Tipsy’s fingers stopped moving in Hermione’s hair before resuming their work at a shakier pace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Master was called away on business. I will accompany you today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Away on business? He didn’t mention anything to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not flattering or respectable for a young lady to question the whereabouts of her elders!” Tipsy flicked Hermione’s neck in punishment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione rubbed her neck and spat out her response,“If I didn’t have respect for my elders, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Say what you please, but I am in charge, and you’ll mind your manners when we get to the dance. You won’t humiliate your father on my watch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before Hermione could educate her chaperone on just how much she didn’t care about what respectable girls did, a loud knock downstairs stopped them both. With one last sour look, Tipsy popped downstairs to greet their guest. A moment later, Hermione heard Tipsy calling her name. It was Matchmaker Trewlaney’s elf reminding Hermione that it was time for her appointment. Tipsy popped back into Hermione’s room and waved a hand over the girl finishing the preparations.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s time.” Tipsy said before grabbing Hermione and apparting them to the town square. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione landed perfectly on her feet as she was very accustomed to Tipsy’s way. The little elf still clutched Hermione’s hand to her chest as if afraid that Hermione would flitter away given half a chance. As for herself, Hermione’s heart clenched in her chest. The square was filled with all the local girls aged 15-20 who’d yet to be marked by Lady Trelawney. Remus  begged exception for Hermione for the last three years claiming that such social pressures would inhibit Hermione’s private education. Now that she’d completed her NEWTS, she no longer had an excuse not to attend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matching Day was an emotionally and sometimes physically arduous annual occasion that corralled all fertile youths together like raging bulls into a bullpen. The young bachelors were of course the bull riders testing out each eligible woman in elaborate courtship dances after the lady had been blessed by Lady Trewlaney herself. The dancing was, of course, ridiculous and a thinly veiled attempt for the men to feel up the girls to their liking under the guise of testing physical compatibility. That portion was disgusting but tolerable; she’d grown up with Remus; if her wandwork didn’t stop wandering fingers, her right hook would. No, it was the blessing that deeply disturbed her. Not only was she given very little choice on if and who she’d be marrying, but a bad blessing could ruin what little chance at a future she still had. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione squirmed when told that her only way out of her father’s house was through marriage. She could have stayed greeting the morning sun with Remus by her side until she died, but Remus deserved his life back. You-know-who and Greyback had taken that from him and her by making him a murdering werewolf turned father and her, an orphan. She was not the sort of woman who submitted to a man but for her father’s sake, she would do it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tipsy yanked on her fingers and pulled her through the bustling crowd. The weather was overcast and warm giving all the town’s people an excuse to gather. Despite her still churning feelings surrounding Luna’s kiss earlier, Hermione looked about for her friend’s cornflower yellow braids. With her mind elsewhere, she hadn’t realized that Tipsy had placed her directly in front of Lady Trelawney's decorated home in town square, until a girl behind her sighed dramatically. Hermione shook her head and focused on her surroundings with her heart pounding painfully in her throat. She turned to Tipsy for comfort but found that her chaperone had disappeared. As the line got shorter and shorter, Hermione felt her pulse jump. She wished that someone was with her. She threw her head about searching for a friendly face or even a mildly disinterested one. She found none. What she did find was that she had somehow become first in line.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Normally, Hermione was a collected woman, with only the occasional bout of anxiety; but as her feet kept pushing her closer to Trewlaney’s blood red entrance door, she felt an impending dread tightening about her neck. As the door swung inward, a girl emerged from within the home’s depths, like a monster emerging from a cave. The door attendant beckoned Hermione forward and she walked up the steps and into the home’s cavernous mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------------------</span>
</p>
<p>Harry Potter will enter the story next chapter. Gold star to anyone who notices where the name of the chapter comes from. Please let me know what you think.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. She'll Bring Honor to Us All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you again to Curly Kay, Anne Ammons and Kifiyawriter! They're so amazing and this thing literally has come by way of their support! All other errors are totally mine! If you know me, you'll know I'll end up editting this thing another 3 times.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>She’ll Bring Honor to Us All</strong>
</p><hr/><p>The journey from the front door to the back of the home was exactly like exploring a curious grotto not realizing it was actually the open jawed smile of a killer whale. By the time she noticed the darkening atmosphere, the door-the jaws- had closed.The attendant unblinkingly watched Hermione hesitating beside him, but did nothing to comfort her; he moved behind and shoved her over the threshold. Hermione blinked rapidly, too stunned to berate him, as her eyes burned at the blinding darkness. The front entrance closed with a whispered finality.</p><p> </p><p>Another attendant ushered Hermione through the house with too many closed doors. Each step she took gave her less light to see by. The path pulling her along had trip hazards that found her stumbling like lamb for slaughter. As she walked on and on past the tightly shut doors, she began to notice that the house itself was more a hodgepodge of absurdism and stalwart horror than she’d first imagined. The walls themselves were dressed with paintings that looked abhorrently disfigured in the unleavened light and casted strange shadows about the floor that looked like sharp teeth waiting to knash and clench. </p><p> </p><p> The attendant wore a stoic expression despite donning a technicolor robe whose colors swirled and changed with each slight movement. His hair and personal grooming like the other attendants was impeccable which only highlighted how strange and cobbled together their surroundings were. The attendant never looked at her face and he did not speak. His large hand gesticulated in various angles indicating the appropriate way to go. He looked neither ancient nor young, which frightened her and Hermione wondered where Lady Trewlaney had acquired such a strange servant. Hermione was not entirely sure this person was a magical being and that was the most terrifying. She made sure there were always a few meters between his back and her person at all times; a being like that could cut or maim without warning. </p><p> </p><p>And then, it was over. She’d managed to stay up right for the most part and her outfit wasn’t too out of sorts. There was a door that she would swear wasn’t there before. It stood very slightly ajar with only the tiniest peep of light tiptoeing out of it. It was the last door on the last left she’d taken. It was also the darkest corridor to date and she sprinted towards it past the shuffling servant. Perhaps it was unladylike to lunge for the door handle and push it open with all her strength, but Hermione felt she was allowed. </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes closed momentarily at the shock of white light blanketing her eyes. Hermione rubbed at them furiously and was now very sure this whole experience was done as some sort of scare tactic to get  nervous maidens off their game. Dropping her hands from her face, Hermione blinked back tears and smiled serenely at the person already occupying the space. </p><p> </p><p>“Come and sit.” The matchmaker beckoned Hermione into the small, square room. The space was styled in light blues and bright whites with floor to ceiling windows bursting with sunlight. The matchmaker wore long, flowing robes that shimmered as she moved and large, owlish glasses that took over her face. Hermione could not have given an accurate description of the woman even if paid. Hermione did as the woman bade and sat next to her on the couch. The woman sat on a luxurious white coach that emitted lavender fragrance from its cushions at random intervals.The lavender smell made her squirm and hold her breath as long as she could.</p><p> </p><p>Lady Trelawney made a flourish with her wand, and a large glass bowl shimmering with water appeared. “Miss Granger, I’d like to explain how our interview will go.” Hermione nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“I will give you a series of tasks, from which I will use to rate your performance. With that information, I will then choose three dance partners for this afternoon. One of them will hopefully be your groom.” </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Lady Trelawney. May I review your scoring rubric? I need a moment to prepare before we begin.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am afraid I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione put her hands in her lap before speaking, “Your tasks and expectations are well tested, I’m sure. However, I am not privy to the requirements I need to pass the exam. If I may have a copy of your evaluative process, it would be most helpful.”</p><p> </p><p>“My methods come from magic itself. I have no set criterion for each task.”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I to believe that my husband-my future- will be determined by your whim?”</p><p> </p><p>The woman wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips like a pufferfish. “You dare question magic? The old gods?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione modulated her voice as if speaking to a very young child, “I was not questioning anything, let alone magic, except how to best exceed the standard. However, I am beginning to have serious concerns about your evaluative measures.”</p><p> </p><p>“You impudent little upstart. You are dismissed.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was more than aware that her test was over and nothing good would come, so she decided to throw all caution out. “I will enjoy explaining this situation to the Head Binding Officiant who happens to be a relation of my father’s. Forgive any ignorance on my part but I believe each town’s matchmaking seer is specifically vetted by the Department of Magical Bindings and Handfasting. I remember reading, a few years ago that our previous matchmaker died right before matching day and you were installed that morning. I don’t believe you were ever interviewed appropriately.” Hermione’s voice, which had reached a shrill octave only moments before, now sounded even, with only a slight hesitation. </p><p> </p><p>Lady Trelawney sat statute stiff; when she finally did crane her neck towards Hermione, her movements were stilted. The matchmaker did not respond vocally but did feather a hand over her thin throat before inclining her head, defeated.</p><p> </p><p>The older woman gestured unenthusiastically toward the crystal bowl, “Your first task is to ferry this water to the open window and allow my ravens to drink from it, without a drop being spilled in the process.” Her mouth opened to protest, but her brain strangled her vocal cords. <em> Temperance, Hermione </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione stood and grasped her wand and whispered a stasis spell. Protests sounded behind her as she lifted the bowl then took  it to the open window where over 7 ravens waited to drink. The dark feathered creatures did not make a sound until she’d poured their drink. They began to wail in harmonized song. The smaller birds gurgled harshly whilst the taller ones made shrill, grating sounds that echoed against the window glass making a symphony of sound that reverberated inside her beating chest.</p><p> </p><p>She shivered visibly hoping to dispel their spell from her mind; the matchmaker was once again just trying to frighten her... of course! With her task quickly done, Hermione returned the bowl and again sat before her examiner.</p><p> </p><p>“You cheated.”</p><p> </p><p>“There were no set parameters despite my vocal request.” Hermione said.</p><p> </p><p>Trelawney sputtered, “You’re a horrible girl. My abilities tell me that you will continue to be horrid. I will save myself the trouble of continuing tasks. I already see what you are about. Fine, I am removing all tasks and finishing with my final test; you will submit one blood droplet to the bowl for examination.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione rose to her feet at the command. “If you’re looking to verify my blood’s cleanliness, I’ll save you the trouble. I’m as muddy as they come; it's not as though you’d be able to tell that with some disgusting blood ritual. That’s biology.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mock my arts, girl?” Trewlaney shifted uncomfortably and would not meet Hermione’s eyes. Just as Hermione geared up for a scathing remark, a sweet, familiar voice swept the tension out of the stifling room.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like my examination,” said a blonde girl with dazed eyes and a soft smile. Luna pushed Hermione away and pulled out a thin dagger before cutting a thin slit across her palm. Luna then waved her hand and a small cut appeared on the matchmaker’s. Luna slapped their hands together while looking deeply into the older woman’s face. Lady Trewlaney did not move away-clearly shocked. Trewlaney’s face morphed from indignation to complete blankness, her steel gaze melted and her clenched jaw slackened. </p><p> </p><p>The matchmaker-seer’s face lost all color as her body relaxed against the couch cushions. The lavender perfumed air deepened, giving Hermione the impression that someone was slowly burning the fragrance out of the room with a single match. The entranced Trewlaney said, “Blood and bone and betrayal, young lord and lady both. Chase and ensnare the many horned god, born of blood and abundant seed. Expose the faceless serpent; do not be deceived by his silent, slithering brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Luna disconnected her hands from the matchmakers before quickly stupefying her and then healed both their hands. Luna was a snake shedding its outer skin; she shook out her long, straight hair from its confining braids and vanished her shoes with wrist flick. With a blank smile, Luna turned her head to look at a stunned Hermione, “That wasn’t going well at all was it?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” the brown eyed girl admitted, “It really wasn’t and that’s ignoring her strange fit just now. That’s the second time today that you’ve shown up to save me, not to mention the hundreds of times before. What will I do with you married off?”</p><p> </p><p>A laugh twinkled from Luna, “You say that as if you too won’t have a husband to mind.” Hermione did not respond with her eyes fixed on her newly polished toes. “And she didn’t have a fit. I hope you were listening.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was, even if it was nonsense.”</p><p> </p><p>“For once, she was speaking the truth. She’s got a good heart underneath that haughty exterior, but could desperately use talent.”</p><p> </p><p>“Luna, that isn't like you to say.” Hermione could not think of one disparaging comment Luna had ever made.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the truth just as sure as what she told you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I get the feeling you could have just told me yourself. I know you believe in all that moon and stars business.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where's the fun in just divining it myself? Even I like to be surprised once in a while. And, it isn’t something to joke about, Hermione. The gods took time to send you that message.” Luna looked her square in the eye and Hermione shifted under her gaze. Hermione always got the distinct impression that Luna took the test on a book she’d written herself just for the hell of it. </p><p> </p><p>There wasn’t much she could say to the blonde; they’d called a truce on pushing their beliefs on the other years ago, however Hermione did take pause: if the gods were sending a message, she could at least commit it to memory. However, more pressing things were on her mind. “Why did you kiss me?” Hermione whispered as her fingers involuntarily ran over her lips. Luna shrugged. “You let me...And, I didn’t want him to have all of you. A part of you belongs with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll always belong to you, Luna. You’re my very best friend. And..” Luna crossed the space between them and Hermione closed the distance with a sealing kiss. Luna wrapped Hermione in her arms while nibbling Hermione’s bottom lip; the kiss tasted like a chocolate covered pinto bean. A swindle at the last moment. A lie telling you that this wasn’t goodbye. At the last moment, Hermione held Luna back as Luna swiped Hermione’s mouth once more before pushing away. </p><p> </p><p>Luna smiled. “I’ll always be in you now and you’ll always be in me.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, you’re saying you don’t want…” Despite knowing what the kiss tasted like, Hermione, ever the student, had to ask. </p><p> </p><p>“I do. But you’re not mine to keep. And my destiny is just outside that door.”  She smiled sadly, dragging her fingers along the delicate stitching at Hermione’s bodice before letting go. Always, letting go.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, who is he? It's not as if Lady Liar over there will give me a good recommendation.” Recovering quickly, Hermione asked about the man who would be her destiny. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, I’ll take care of her.” Luna didn’t respond so much as she acknowledged Hermione’s words. </p><p> </p><p>”But what about the man? You mentioned a ‘he’ before.” </p><p> </p><p>A loud cowbell began signalling the start of the dance. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s time for the dance! No time to talk! To our destinies, we walk!” Luna tried to keep her dreamy affectation, but her voice sounded coarse and beaten. Hermione decided the kindest thing to do was let the moment go unacknowledged. Luna shooed her out of the room and Hermione let the other girl handle the wacky matchmaker. </p><p> </p><p>Traveling out was much easier than entering, and Hermione let out a nervous breath as an attendant came over. A completed dance card was handed to her as she exited Trewlaney’s house. The dance card was magically generated after each girl met with the matchmaker and Hermione sent Luna a mental thank you for whatever she’d done. Her dance card had four names and three opportunities for a match. If a man did not choose her today, she would have to try again next year unless someone decided to seek her hand in the interim. For Remus’s sake, she would do her best despite her names: Millner Bulstrode (nope), Ronald Weasley (not ideal but okay), Ernie  Macmillian (okay…) and Harry Potter (who was that?).</p><hr/><p> </p><p>All the women were ushered inside a converted abraxian pen where the local equestrian team bred and trained the animals. Hermione was instructed to wear a tag on her dress. The tag would display a new number after each dance. Each man had been previously assigned a number and would find his new dance partner by searching for her in the crowd. Hermione could only deduce that after the final dance, she’d be corralled and stabled before tomorrow’s pony show. </p><p> </p><p>When the announcer, A jolly Arthur Weasley, opened the dance to participants, many townspeople crowded around the arena for easy viewing. Hermione saw Tipsy’s narrowed eyes in the sea of faces and decided a fake smile was necessary. WIth that attitude, Hermione trudged about the dance floor with hapless suitor after hapless suitor with not an intelligent, independent thought between them. </p><p> </p><p>A small break was called between the third dance and the fourth and Hermione reflected on her partners. It wasn’t fair to dismiss them all. Ronald had actually made her laugh. He was open with no artifice- fresh air in a stilted environment. She had a vague recollection of their combined childhood mischief, but that time was foggy to her as if it had never happened.</p><p> </p><p>It truly was nice to see the stalk-thin boy turn into a handsome man, but her affection was sisterly at best and generally annoyed at worst. He’d insulated her against the whispers electrifying the conversations around her much to her extreme irritation; if that was married life with the red head, he could eat it. Just as she’d feared, the war against Lord Voldemort had taken a dire turn. Apparently, the battle at Ottery St. Catchpole had decimated the very ground. It was unclear by the whispers who’d actually claimed victory.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione edged closer to Bulstrode’s Band of Baleful Brothers hoping to hear more war news but was lewdly propositioned causing bat bogeys to erupt from their noses and mouths, to everyone’s  extreme amusement. Soon, the break and her trickle of information had concluded.</p><p> </p><p>At last, The dance was on its final tour. Hermione’s dress tag glowed with a new number- 7311980. She looked about for a corresponding man but saw every other number except the one she needed; heat rose on her skin and a humiliated stain splashed across her mind. Perhaps gossip about the bookish swot had already circulated to her final suitor. Hermione felt a firm, cool hand on her  burning skin and she found herself effortlessly spun into a man’s arms. She looked up to see eyes like jade sparkling in the sunlight. Those eyes were nestled safely behind rimless glasses that looked tasteful yet perfectly suited for the man’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s quite an entrance, sir.” Hermione had never heard her voice sound so feathery before; indeed she hadn’t known her vocal cords were capable of creating the sound. Before she could think too long on the subject, the man pulled her into a dance that was equal parts off key and sincere. Hermione barely noticed as she found herself hypnotized by his beautiful eyes. </p><p> </p><p> Her breath hitched which woke her from his spell; she blinked as though something was in her eye. When she reopened them, she was able to take in his entire face. He had soft features that were too endearing to be entirely rugged but too distinctly male to be feminine. He was not smiling and it was apparent that a smile was a foreign expression on his face, but his eyes were enchanting. They drew her into them even as their depths were too deep to stand in; Hermione would follow those jade greens straight into Hell.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Harry Potter; I don’t mean to sound forward, but I feel as if we’ve met.” He cocked his head to the side and something that definitely was not a smile took over his face. Butterflies fluttered through her, but he looked like the sort of person immune to all things beautiful. It made Hermione want to debate him on every subject in the world until she’d worn him down into ardently accepting her opinions as fact. A part of her felt as if she’d argued with him before...felt his stare on her before.</p><p> </p><p>“I apologize, but Mr. Potter I am sure I have never seen you before.” Hermione corrected. She wondered when she’d found the energy to breathe with his enthralling orbit pulling her in.</p><p> </p><p>The man inclined his head as he accepted her denial. With his head angled in such a way, Hermione could not see his eyes and she got the distinct impression that if she continued looking at them... she’d go blind. Instead of letting go, their bodies became impossibly closer; he did not have a distinct smell; rather she found that he had a natural fragrance of prophetic ramblings and wind-blown hair. His hand had been politely resting on her back, but as she moved closer, his fingers clenched around her skin and his arms locked about her like a cage. Something hot and silky curled in her stomach and by the way his heart beat erratically in his chest, he’d caught it too.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Mr. Potter stiffened and awoke from the starry dream woven between their hearts; Hermione instantly felt when the moment was lost...the moment their chemistry fell from the sky and into the engulfing ocean swimming with cruel reality. He pushed away  just as his heartbeat began pounding out of control. He couldn’t deny it; she’d felt his heartbeat against her chest. “I apologize Miss, but I’ve only just remembered an important meeting. I apologize for leaving you so suddenly. Excuse me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No one schedules anything on Matching Day. Surely you’re mistaken.”</p><p> </p><p>“My acquaintance has long forgotten about decorum or the feelings of others. I really must be going, Miss Hermione.”</p><p> </p><p>Pressing on, Hermione tipped her head to the side, “I believe that Matching Day is a mandatory event. I’d advise you to tell your friend that he or she could get into serious trouble for ignoring the mandate.”  </p><p> </p><p>He looked slightly irritated and he’d already let go, “You won’t let someone try to be a gentleman.” At her widened eyes, not even Tipsy had ever been that rude, Mr. Potter seemed to pause. As soon as his eyes gleamed with hesitation the moment passed his eyes hardened; Hermione reeled back at the abrupt change. She wished they could go back to just a moment ago. “Fine, if you insist on pushing the issue, I just don’t want to be here any longer.” He narrowed his hard set eyes as he hissed under his breath. </p><p> </p><p>The cowbell sounded and Hermione instinctively turned towards it. She shook her head as she recognized the sound and then turned back to give Mr. Potter a piece of her mind. Hermione opened her mouth to speak only to see his retreating form weaving elegantly through the packed crowd. Hermione had led the sort of life that always allowed her the last word. Being denied this, she burned from the inside and she knew she could never rest until she’d ripped that cad up one side and down the other. </p><p> </p><p>“I must say I have thoroughly enjoyed today’s events, but I am afraid we must adjourn for a few hours to allow our men time to choose their brides and secure dowries from fathers. Our night will conclude with the naming of the couples at the bonfire,” a cheerful Mr. Weasley remarked. Hermione took that as her signal to leave; she threw a quick notice-me-not on her clothes and rushed away as the crowd murmured excitedly. She even ignored Tipsy and Luna’s voices calling her to wait. </p><p> </p><p>Tearful at the awkward snub, Hermione walked home to clear her head without any company. Try as she might, Hermione was unable to forget the close encounters she had today with Luna and the rude Mr. Potter. She once again touched a finger to her lips as she reminisced. They had tingled under Luna’s lips but even the hint of Mr. Potter’s breath felt like blood- red violence and shivering sin. She was surprised when she decided whose proximity she liked best despite the circumstances. It was only on that dangerous memory did she realize that she’d never told Mr. Potter her name and yet somehow he’d known it.</p><p> </p><p>With an echoing pop, Tipsy fell before her. The normally poised and coiffed elf’s clothing was blood stained and torn. The elf’s lips that were typically down turned and exasperated were widened with screams. Hermione grasped Tipsy before she fell over; Tipsy dug her nails into Hermione’s skin nailing her in place. </p><p> </p><p>“Come quickly! It's your father.” Before Hermione could speak, her body melted through time with Tipsy as her guide. They landed just outside Hermione’s home. It was engulfed in spiteful, vengeful flames.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The story cover is a big spoiler for this story. You'll start to see see that more and more :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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